A House at the Grange

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Since ages I haven’t been asleep in the lap of insouciance. It has been so long since I was at my home, the place where I grew up. In the ‘Nest’ of ‘Love’, my childhood bloomed. Where birds came and lived and became part of my evening plays, that is my home.

Every morning it was chatter of birds in balcony that woke me up. Their tore up feathers I collected, and preserved them so I could remember them even after they left. Tickle of my small fingers on the feathery head is still afresh in the memory. Where I lived lovingly, that is my home.

By the shade of the back wall in the compound, I recited poems in the afternoon. I weaved stories and played my role with conceit. Mamma’s words went unheard and my plays continued in the blazing sun. Where life was carefree, that is my home.

I don’t wish to win the rat race now; I set myself free from all the responsibilities. I want to travel to the place that soothes me with belongingness. I want to soak myself in the rain of memories from my childhood. Where I will heal myself, that is my home.

Photographs were shot by Canon SX150, Point and Shoot camera. If you liked the photographs, please like the Facebook page

Music Rewinds

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Mai rahe, meenaa rahe, gardish mein paimaanaa rahe
Mere saaqi tuu rahe aabaad maikhana rahe...

I see a small kid, looking through the window. For him, having a look through window was itself a dream; a window that would allow to see outside. The window in his room allows to see till the horizon, no one lies in between except for green grasses, shrubs and birds playing. Holes in the window seldom make a whirling noise as the riotous but usual wind flows through them. Having no one to play, and with holidays at school, most of the time of his days are spent on imagining stories and his wishes getting fulfilled in them. He was the hero in all of his stories, the one who rules with all his wishes turning true.

Music plays always, at least always when the electricity is there at his home. The least understanding of his about the music, and even less about the rarest ghazals sung by Jagjit Singh, it does not bore him of staying surrounded by this aliened ambience. Immense meaning in the music never settled down his gut, but the soft tunes he remembers. He remembers tune in every track, and to some extent their words too. When no one is around, he mumbles those ghazals with somewhat original words and a little mixed with his own creations but the tune stays strictly the same. He has warmth for collecting memories. But what can be the best place to keep memories other than connecting them with music?

I see the kid has grown up into a man. Sitting by the balcony of his three storeys house, he is playing those tracks again. He now understands those words and immense meaning that Jagjit Singh carried in his ghazals. But he misses his old Tape Recorder, the kind of soft music it played with infrequent buzz and hitching of tape on head and reels. He still remembers every tune, and when no one is around he sings in a low voice. I see tears in those eyes which were once joyous mumbling broken words from the same ghazals. He rewinds the tape of memories hidden in those ghazals. And everything appears to be live before him again. As he leans at the railing of balcony, he reminisce instances of his tinker by the window. The window that allows to see till the horizon, where no one lies in between except for green grasses, shrubs and birds playing. Holes in the window seldom make a whirling noise as the riotous but usual wind flows through them…

Zindagi ka lutf ho udti rahe haradam 'Riaz'
hum hon sheeshe ki pari ho ghar parikhana rahe...

Italicized lines are from the ghazal written by Riaz Khairabadi, and sung by late Shri Jagjit Singh in his album Mirage. You can listen to the track here.

Adios | BCET

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“…when I was in my first year, I was told that the four years of engineering will be over in the blink of an eye. Now, when I am at the verge of completion of my four years of engineering, I can say that yes I have experienced it. These four years swept by so quickly. To me it seems that the four years were one single moment but it carried innumerable stories within it. Every story is fresh and it will be forever.”
The CSE and IT department of our college gave us farewell on May 20, 2014. To receive warm affection from our teachers and a note of motivation for our lives ahead was mesmeric. As this was going to be the last meet of ours with teachers officially, I carried my point and shoot camera with me and captured as many moments that I could. I don’t want any moment to let go off my reach. I want to preserve them, each one of them. But yes, I try to overcome the bad memories at the earliest, failing to do at most of the times though. However, they also make me a more experienced person, a little more learned, but the canvas of imagery you build gets stained with unintended instances in life. The journey of four years at Bengal College of Engineering & Technology had been somewhat a mixture of good and bad experiences which in totality helped me grow. I find there have been a huge number of changes inside me. My seniors helped me to grow, so did my friends, and I can’t forget to mention the role of my teachers in it. Teachers always help you in one way or the other, and trust me, most of the times you won’t even get to notice that they have helped you. In the later stages of life, you realize how important they were. Yesterday, on June 2nd 2014, we gave the last exam of our B-Tech. After two days I am about to leave Durgapur, and I am filled with emotions towards some of the good teachers I was blessed with.

The starting note in this post is a part of the short speech I gave on the farewell day. I felt honored to get called along with Namrata, my best friend, by our HOD sir Dr.Prof. S Dasgupta to say something in front of the whole CSE & IT family.


“…these four years I was a part of the CSE and IT family. I have to leave now. But I wish to be remembered as a part of this family in the coming future too.”
This ended my speech then but filled me with melancholy. I can go on speaking of my college life endlessly. Most of the things I am backspacing here, probably I will let them out at some later stages of my life.

I want to thank each one and every one of them who were a part of the life I lived here at Durgapur.

Thank You!